The Last
by StevieD
Summary: Few living creatures in Alagaesia know more than his name. He is the Great Warrior, he is the White Knight. He is The Last.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: All right, hello potential readers. I've been wanting to write a fan fiction based on this character for a loooong time. Although he belongs to Paolini, Chris hasn't said much about him so I can basically create his story. If you like it, please add to favorites and review! If you don't like it, please do so anyway. :) Thanks!**

"Anurin, wake up! Wake up, Anurin!"

In a moment, the twelve year old was fully conscious, his mind sharp and his awareness complete. He didn't know whether it was the rough shaking that had so effectively woke him, or the fear in the voice that had intruded upon his dreams.

He looked up at his father, a handsome man with black hair, neatly trimmed stubble on his jaw and chin, and brilliant blue eyes that he had passed on to his son.

"What is it?" Anurin whispered, not knowing why he did so, but subdued by the intensity of his father's gaze.

"I'll tell you soon," he said, sweeping away the question, "We have to go somewhere first."

"Where?" Anurin asked, rolling off his bed and getting to his feet.

"Somewhere else!" Hissed his father. Anurin looked at him for a few moments, taking in all the details of his face. He was desperate and terrified, and Anurin knew that now was not the time to ask questions. They ran through their small house and out the back door, Anurin still barefoot. Once outside, screams could be heard all around, and Anurin was looking all around for their source as they ran, his father's directing hand squeezing his shoulder.

After they had been running straight south for a few minutes, Anurin realized they were leaving Morduve, the town he and all his people had been raised to love and care for.

Anurin's curiosity overcame his hesitation to ask questions. "Where are we going?" he asked as they ran. When he asked the question, he could tell that his father didn't want to answer it, but he must have realized that answering one question was easier than ignoring several.

"We're going to the old well, between the mountains. You'll be safe there." Things were taking a very menacing turn, what with the still audible screams coming from the city they were nearly clear of. However, Anurin still didn't know what was going on, so he decided to ask another question. "Safe from what? What's going on?" Two questions. Oh well. His father hesitated again.

"Tell me, father, or else I might not act appropriately to the occasion." Anurin said. His reason appealed to his father, who said, "Morduve is under attack by a very large army. I don't think-" He sounded completely calm—no-emotionless, but there was something about his stiffness that told Anurin the calm exterior was a façade. Anurin squeezed his hand comfortingly while they walked, and looked up at him. A crystal tear squeezed from his father's eye and dripped onto Anurin's hand.

When they had almost left the city through the small West Gate, three armed and armored men appeared in front of them from behind a house. The pair tensed at the sight of them, but then they recognized the men as Morduvian soldiers. One took off his helmet. It was Jalian, a Morduvian council member, and captain in the army. He commanded two thousand men.

"Kodev! It's you!" He looked relieved, along with the two men with him. Then his expression became confused. "Where are you going?"

Anurin knew that his father Kodev and Captain Jalian had fought side by side for several years. The captain often came to their house to eat with them, and he and Kodev would often go to the Flowing Fountain, the local pub, and swap stories with other soldiers. They were very good friends, and Anurin had heard enough war stories to know they fought well together.

"I'm taking my son out of the city, to a safe place." Kodev said, with his hand on Anurin's shoulder. Jalian looked at Anurin then back at Kodev and there was an understanding there that Anurin couldn't begin to understand.

"Yes. He should be safe." Jalian said, now fixing Anurin with an intense gaze. Anurin returned it with a strong look that couldn't hide his confusion. He knew there were unspoken words that were mutually understood by both his father and the captain.

"Do you have any news, Jalian?" Kodev asked.

"They've broken through the North Gate. The first line of buildings is in ruin from their fire bombs, and there are five thousand Secrum are already in Morduve, maybe more." His expression turned to one of fear. "Kodev, Lord Caliber is here."

Anurin saw his father frown. His grip had tightened painfully on Anurin's shoulder, but Anurin wasn't going to complain. "Gods help us." Kodev whispered. There was a pause.

"I must get my son to safety. There is a nearby place no one will look. He will be hidden even from Caliber. But I'll come back to fight before it is too late."

"I hope you do." Jalian responded sincerely.

"Just keep an eye out, brother." Kodev said with a nostalgic smile. They clasped hands. "If I don't see you again, peace guard your soul."

Jalian nodded and seemed to be taking in Kodev's appearance, as if saving the details of his friend in his memory forever. After a few long moments, during which the screams and sounds of destruction were strangely muted, Jalian sighed. "Peace guard your soul as well, brother."

Without prolonging their goodbyes, the two friends parted: Jalian with his two subordinates, and Kodev with Anurin.

The journey to the West Gate was a tense one, considering that both Kodev and Anurin fully expected no less than a troop of soldiers to jump out at them at every turn. The sounds of war were so faint that they were nearly inaudible. It was silent except for the occasional far-off roar of a falling building. Aside from that, and the trail of smoke that rose to the sky behind them, it was the same as any other night.

The West Gate couldn't constitute a gate, really. It was more like a door, and it was impossible to get to from outside the city, because it led into the maze-like mountains, which cradled the west and south sides of the city. Anurin could remember going to the well once before with his father, when he was only four. It was a strange place, so secluded and apart from the world. For some reason, being there made him sleepy. It must have been the silence.

When they had reached the Gate father and son increased their pace until they were jogging. The 'Gate' opened with a creaking from its rusty hinges, and they shut it behind them. Now all sound of war had been left behind them, and Anurin felt extremely secluded. It was a weird feeling, and definitely not a peaceful one. There was a narrow path, wide enough for one normal sized man to walk through, or two small children. On either side were perfectly vertical walls of mountain, as if the path to the well was cut through the mountain.

Anurin had a vague memory of terror upon his first and only trip through the path, when he had been young. The feeling of claustrophobia was so intense that, at first, he had thrown up. It had taken a strong will to keep walking, and it would again take Anurin's prematurely iron determination to walk unscathed to the well.

"Are you ready?" Kodev asked Anurin, who clenched his teeth. He didn't know if he was ready, but he would not show the smallest sign of weakness. "Yes." he replied in a steady voice, eying the gray, bleak mountain face with as much courage as he could muster. The wind was blowing from the north, gently tugging at his clothes. He fully realized for the first time that he wasn't even wearing shoes. With all the information he was taking in, whether or not he was wearing shoes seemed like such a trivial matter than he had pushed it back to his subconscious.

Kodev grabbed onto Anurin's hand, for which Anurin was thankful, and started toward the frighteningly small crevice, and Anurin led the way since they couldn't walk abreast. Every step seemed to Anurin like a slow walk to his execution, or like the wait a prisoner would have to endure until the torturer came to make his life pain. When his father stopped, Anurin thought for half a second that Kodev had lost his nerve as well and couldn't bear to enter the crevice, but then he saw Kodev touch his hand to the mountain, as if revisiting an old memory. Then he looked into the pitch-black crevice of the mountain and stepped into it.

After the first step, it felt like he had been swallowed by the earth, and was being strained down its cold, restricting throat. He wanted to go back, but he knew he would never allow himself to shrink from this challenge. He would overcome it. The second step only further entrenched him in the horrible feeling. The mountain seemed like it was squeezing all of the breath out of him, and his breath came in short gasps.

He had to go back. This was killing him. There was no way he would survive this...

No. Anurin stopped and squared his shoulders, mentally forcing back the feeling of claustrophobia. The mountains no longer pressed in on him so tightly. He took a few more steps.

His resolve threatened to crumble, and he redoubled his efforts, his expression a snarl of determination. Now he could face the challenge. He could not see, but he imagined the well only a few dozen steps away. He started walking faster; letting go of the grip he had on his father's hand, ignoring the looming mountainsides, which no longer existed in his mind. He was only in complete darkness, in a wide-open space, walking to a nearby destination.

When the feeling of openness came, he recognized it. He had left the razor thin path and was now in the small circular clearing where the well stood. The moonlight filtered into the clearing and he was able to see with semi-clarity. The well was there, in the exact center of the grassy space. The mountains rose thousands of feet above him on all sides, but the feeling was no longer unpleasant. He had conquered it. He swore he would never let fear control him. Ever. He was a human and the human will was the strongest force on the earth, stronger than the raging winds and the crashing seas he had heard of in tales told by the traveling men of Morduve.

Morduve...

He turned around when he realized his father was not with him. In fact, upon inspecting the entire clearing, he found that his father was nowhere to be seen. A prick of worry touched him for a moment, but he smothered it and walked back toward the path. When he arrived at the small opening, he peered into the pitch-blackness. "Father?" he called.

"I am here." the strong voice was followed quickly by the image of his father materializing out of the darkness. Anurin stepped back to let him in and once again drank in the features of his father's face.

His father was a strong man, he had known that even when he was too young to know anything. He had been a commanding officer in the Morduvian army, and he had heard vague stories told of his father's incredible victories against overwhelming odds, when their beautiful city had been threatened.

He was tall and built with lean muscles, and he was more courageous than any man Anurin had ever met. Kodev had taught Anurin as much as he could about sword fighting in the last three years, and Anurin had built up some muscle, although it was young muscle and wouldn't be well developed for a year or two more.

"Why are we here, father?" Anurin asked. Kodev looked at him, and Anurin could see in his eyes that his father was deep in thought. His father walked to the well in silence. Anurin followed him and watched as his father bent over the well to stare into its depths.

"Morduve will be overrun." Were his first words. His voice was calm, but there was a slight weariness in it, the weariness of a man who has seen far too much in his life. "One hundred thousand men sweep through Morduve as we speak. They will search the entire village for men, women, and children of any age. None will be enslaved," his father said, and added as an afterthough, as if speaking to himself, "Caliber doesn't take prisoners."

Anurin felt his hands tremble and he clenched them to make them stop. He didn't think he wanted to hear anything else his father had to say.

"In a year, this city will be nothing more than a few ruined buildings overcome with vines and inhabited by animals. The splendor of Morduve will be utterly forgotten." Kodev turned to his son, and now Anurin could see the sadness in his eyes. A sadness beyond tears. Kodev knelt until he was eyelevel with his son.

"You are the exception. You will survive this destruction and live with the memory of the Morduvians in your heart. You will be the last, and you will show the world the strength of our people. That is why we are here. This is the only safe place for you now."

His eyes went very far away, and his mouth twitched into a half-smile, though there was no happiness in it. After a moment, his vision focused once more on his only son. "A very powerful man is looking for you. He wants to find and capture the son of Kodev, Scourge of the Secrum Armies. He cannot find you here. You will carry on the pride of your race, and I have no doubt you will grow into a great and powerful warrior. You should know, I'm very proud of you." His father smiled, and the gesture seemed to make his sadness disappear.

Anurin could see the sincerity in his father's eyes, and suddenly a tear squeezed out of each of his. A tear of strong love for his father, and a tear of misery for the knowledge that they would never meet again. The strength went out of his legs then and he sat on the edge of the well, tears now rolling freely down his face. His father stood, and placed a hand on his head. Anurin felt a comforting warmth from the gesture, and a deep feeling of hope within him, although it was too deep to combat the darkness on the surface of his heart. He couldn't meet his father's eyes but instead looked down, his vision blurry from tears, and felt his father kiss him gently on the head.

With that, his father turned and walked toward the path. Just before he was swallowed by the darkness, he stepped and turned halfway around. Anurin looked up at him, his eyes moist.

"Goodbye, Anurin." He said. Anurin felt the large lump in his throat tighten.

"Goodbye, father." He managed to choke out. Then his father was gone.

With a strangled sigh, Anurin laid himself on the ground and closed his eyes against the world, which was full of pain, misery, and violence, none of which Anurin wanted to be a part of, but all of which seemed to want to be a part of him. He wished he could just block out the world for thousands of years, and wake up afterward to see his father standing next to him smiling.

In no time, Anurin fell asleep…


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading Chapter One and continuing to Chapter Two :) This one is shorter, but it also provides vital insight into what exactly is going on already. A lot has happened, but I really want to push the plot along so we can get to the good parts. Please review!**

Sunlight filled Anurin's newly awoken eyes. Gasping in pain, the child brought up his hands to block out the offensive rays. Tears, triggered by the impossibly bright light, filtered out from beneath his closed eyelids as he bit his lip against the stinging sensation. He had looked directly into the sun directly after waking up. It had happened to him once before perhaps a year ago, but he was positive it hadn't been this intense.

For a moment, panic gripped him as he contemplated the possibility that he had gone blind, but he couldn't bring himself to uncover his eyes and test his theory, for fear of refreshing the pain. Perhaps the bright red imprint of the sun that was burned upon his eyes was a sign that his vision had not let him. If he were blind, he wouldn't be able to see that, would he?

At long last, the pain died away, and Anurin dropped his hands from his eyes, though he kept his eyelids shut. He could see bright red light on the backs of his eyelids, where the sun's rays were trying to penetrate them. Anurin rolled onto his stomach and cautiously opened his eyes to look at the grassy earth beneath him. Even facing the ground, the boy had to squint until his eyes became acclimated to the light from above. His eyes had never, in his memory, been this sensitive. It was ridiculous.

A few moments later Anurin pushed himself off the green floor of the clearing and got to his feet. His bangs, which he always swept to the side, fell in front of his eyes. Brushing them away in annoyance, he realized that they were incredibly long. He hadn't noticed it last night, but his hair, which was usually an inch above his shoulder, now descended to the middle of his back. Anurin determined to cut it when he left the mountain…

Right. The mountain. Anurin turned about full circle.

Constricting as it was, the hollow in the mountain was also quite beautiful in the daytime. The delicate blades of grass were as green as he had ever seen anywhere, the soil beneath it a rich, dark brown. The well in particular looked rather attractive with the elegant tree that overshadowed it—a tree?

That hadn't been there last night…

Anurin crossed the small distance between him and the well and inspected the tree more closely. The bark of the tree—flawlessly smooth, not ridged—was a pale tan, almost white. Graceful, upturned leaves of a deep maroon-purple clustered around a pale blue fruit, all somehow upheld by seemingly frail branches no more than an inch thin.

His stomach gurgled. Smiling at the appropriate timing of the reminder, Anurin extended his hand to retrieve the blue fruit. He plucked it from its stem with virtually no effort. Rotating the fruit in his hand, he tried to identify it, but failed miserably. It was the shape of kiwi but the skin felt more like a peach. A taste test quickly revealed to him that its meat was uncannily similar to that of a watermelon's, but thicker and somehow far more pleasant.

It was hard for him to keep himself from devouring the fruit within seconds. So he didn't. Once he had finished the first, pale blue juice lining his mouth, he wolfed down three more, leaving nothing behind. The fruit didn't have seeds inside of it, which he found extremely unusual. Strangely, after eating the small fruit, his muscles felt fully regenerated. Prior to his eating the fruit, he hadn't even realized that his arms, legs, and back felt flaccid and weak.

As he wiped his juice-covered hands on his trousers, Anurin spotted a glint of metal among the twisted net of branches. Leaning forward and parting a few key branches, he discovered the source of the glint: an amulet. His father's amulet. Emotion filled him again, as it had last night. He had no idea where his father was, but Anurin was sure that he had returned to fight the Secrum. Was there really any hope that he had survived, when the full force of the Secrum army attacked a single city?

Anurin attempted to have hope for his father, but logic and reality smothered the flicker of faith and it drifted away in the winds of sorrow. Anurin sniffled as he reached his hand into the small tangle of tiny white branches and grasped the cool metal. He lifted it from the branch it hung from and held it before his face. The sunlight glinted off of the topaz. The stone was the exact color of his father's eyes. Anurin's eyes now shed a few painful tears before he slipped the large chain over his head and tucked the amulet beneath his filthy smock. A tear dripped onto his even filthier bare feet as he bowed his head against the lump in his throat.

Amid the grief, a strange emotion entered Anurin's heart, tickled an unknown part of his mind, sent blood surging through his veins at a pace he had never felt before. What was it called? he wondered. The Secrum had taken his father, had taken his people. He was going to return to them the pain he now felt. He had found the word. His father had explained it to him once when they killed the boars that had entered their house and destroyed much of their furniture. Revenge. It had much more meaning now than it had upon his father's explanation.

Feeling a strange warmth emanating from his father's amulet, now resting solidly against his heart, he clenched the precious metal through his smock and whispered one word. "Revenge."

_Plunk…_

The wind swept over the dun-colored grass of the plains.

_Plunk…_

The plains were completely flat, save for a single hill that rose illogically from among them. Otherwise, there was nothing but flat plains for miles around. That, and of course the mountains.

Plunk…

Atop that single hill stood a single man, clothed in glowing silver armor. He faced south, toward the mountains, against which sat what was once a marvelous city. It's sandstone walls, once forty feet tall, stood at most a height of twenty feet, and only in a few places. The rest of the walls were in much more severe degrees of ruin.

Within the ruined enclosure, what few buildings stood were almost completely torn down. Most were marked by fire, the brick marred and warped by intense heat. Distasteful varieties of weeds had already begun to spring from the cracks of the previously immaculate cobblestone streets.

The city of Morduve was laid waste. His job was finished.

Plunk…

The man tossed his knifepoint down into the ground beneath him, bent down, retrieved the blade, and tossed it down once more. _Plunk!_

He had been waiting since dawn. Any moment now, his waiting would be over.

A few minutes passed. The sun made its slow, imperceptible turn through the sky.

Another few minutes…

The sound of a whip cracking traveled across the half-mile's distance to the city and reached the solitary man's ears. His eyes fell upon the gap at the front of the city's wall, where the heavy wooden gate had been ripped off its hinges. Emerging from that gap, with furious speed, was a man mounted upon a white stallion. A beautiful horse. The man deserved such a glorious steed. He was extremely effective.

It took only a little over a minute for the rider, his horse creating a suffocating plume of dust in the air behind them, to cover the half-mile. The steed loped up the steep hillside and stopped directly in front of the patiently waiting man. The rider dismounted smoothly and in the same motion bowed on one knee before the standing figure. He didn't make eye contact with the erect man, who was obviously his superior, but with great deference bowed his head to gaze at the man's booted feet.

"Captain Delanor. Report." The man's voice was strong and mellifluous, pleasing to the ears. His tone was calm and level and left his listeners at ease. As he looked down at the man prostrate before him, he sheathed his knife and locked his fingers together in front of him.

"Lord Caliber. My report remains the same. No survivors have been found." Captain Delanor said clearly and precisely, the model of practicality. Lord Caliber gazed at him with unseeing eyes, contemplating.

"How many casualties this week?" he asked after a few moments.

"Twenty-seven, my Lord."

Lord Caliber paused to unlock his fingers and toy with the brief stubble on his chin. His eyes moved back to the derelict city laid out before him.

"You say there are no survivors, yet for the past year we have dealt with a large number of casualties every week." Lord Caliber observed airily, as if revealing an interesting fact. Still not meeting eyes with his superior, Delanor responded.

"My Lord, the buildings are in ruin. Roofs, not properly supported, often cave in when rubble is shifted. Men die from being in close proximity to the bodies of the dead, those we have not burned. Several faint from heat stroke every day, and no less than ten men starved to death today. We have worked hard to meet your desired pace."

His stance remained forcibly rigid. Only years of torturous self-discipline kept him from ripping off the plates of armor that suffocated him and sent rivulets of sweat dripping off his nose and chin.

"Rise." Lord Caliber commanded. Delanor was on his feet almost instantaneously.

"Your men have indeed worked hard, and performed more adequately than I had expected. However, no one has impressed me quite as thoroughly as you have." He paused, and in that short space of silence, Captain Delanor locked eyes with Lord Caliber. He quickly looked away respectfully.

"We're done here. Tell your men they feast tonight, General." He paused again, only long enough to distinguish the quiet intake of air as his vassal gasped. "Triple rations for all. Spread the ale around, you march easy tomorrow."

General Delanor saluted his Lord crisply, only barely containing the smile that threatened to break free. Lord Caliber nodded and dismissed him with a wave. As the general mounted his steed, his movements quick and excited, Lord Caliber turned to the mountains.

_Come._

_I come._

What appeared to be a massive winged shadow erupted from between the many mountain peaks and rose toward the sunbathed sky. It seemed to absorb the light around it, so dark it was. It turned towards Lord Caliber, flexed its wings once, and was propelled toward him with impossible speed.

Within seconds, the shadowy creature landed gracefully, barely shaking the earth beneath it. It was a night griffon, with a body roughly the size of horse and a fearsome beak that could penetrate whatever it desired. Its electric blue eyes could see during the night as if the sun were brightly shining. During the day, however, a film covered its eyes that blocked most light. It tossed its feathered head and slinked catlike toward Lord Caliber, who approached likewise.

_Where do we go?_ The question resonated inside Caliber's mind, a thought not his own.

_To the end of the earth, my child._ Caliber returned. He leapt onto the night griffon's back and was bourn into the air with blinding speed, the wind from the creature's wings beating upon the immobile General Delanor and his mount.

The general watched the two beings fade into the distance and squared his shoulders. Then, with a soft "Hah," to his stallion, he set off down the other side of the hill at a leisurely trot, headed for the thousands of tents that covered the plains before him, already imagining himself soundly asleep in his own bed back in Secrum.


End file.
